Somebody's Lily
by WithInTheWolfPack
Summary: She wasn't a nothing and she was far from being invisible.  Most people could look past her but she was quite a sight to see.  She wasn't a nothing and she was far from being invisible.  She was somebody's Lily.


A/N: I have come to the conclusion that I need to stop listening to music. Every song lately give me an idea for a new story and some just stick a little too well. The song behind this inspiration is Rebe Macentire's (not sure I spelled that right) Somebody's Chealsea (not sure I spelled that right either).

Other Story Updates: Goodby Lullaby: I know I spelled goodbye wrong but I like it that way so I'm not changing it. I started the next chapter in Sirius' point of view only to realize I can't do it without making him sound like a girl. So then I started doing it in Anya's point of view only to get stuck inbetween a rock and a hard place. Rock: Go back and rewrite the pervious chapter. Hard place: Deciding on with fork in the road to chose. I have two different ideas and can't decide which one I like better.

Faded Photographs: ? Everytime I try I end up not liking it. But than again I don't tend to like anything I write. Which is weird. So I'm honestly just considering writing something and then sending it off to someone else who can decide whether or not it's rubish. Or maybe just put it up for adoption. But that sounds really heartless. I mean I have tons of ideas, it's just trying to get them to work that's the problem. ?

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><p>Somebody's Lily<p>

Summary: She wasn't a nothing and she was far from being invisible. Most people could look past her but she was quite a sight to see. She wasn't a nothing and she was far from being invisible. She was somebody's Lily.

Prologue

Silence is the best time to relive truths and memories. Silence was the best place to avoid distractions and judgment. Silence is someone's best friend and someone's worse enemy. Sirius Black knew better than anyone else what silence brought.

In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve the eldest Black found himself surrounded by silence in the deserted kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. All the other Order members were no doubt fast asleep, and that suited him just fine. It was only in silence, alone, that he could bring himself to recount the days of his past. After all he could be sure what those days were going to bring. A smile, a breakdown, laugher, tears. It was too unpredictable to relive in front of people he knew better than himself, much less people he barely knew.

The worn cardboard box sitting in front of him seemed much heavier than he remembered. Even the table on which it sat seemed to dip unnaturally under its weight, threatening to give out at any moment. But no matter how much it weighed Sirius wouldn't hesitate to carry it alone through all of hell and back if it meant he got to keep what was inside.

All the pictures, the letters, and everything else that had to do with her were his silence so to speak. They were the memories, the truths of his best and worst times of his life. It was only during moments when he could guarantee solitude that he could allow himself to look upon them all. He didn't need the judgment of others. He judged himself hard enough.

With shaking hands Sirius pulled out the item that sat on top of everything else. The paint on the frame was peeling and the glass was cracked and permanently stained dust. Still the picture proved to be visible and unfading. If the truth is to be told than it must said that the picture Sirius held in his hands immortalizes the single most happiest day of his life; the day he could officially call her his.

The kitchen of the Potter Mansion seemed clean and perfect as it always did and decorated for the holidays one could practically smell the cookies that had no doubt been baked. But the background was merely that. A background and it paled in comparison to the two young lovers occupying it.

The girl stood facing the camera with one hand holding her bronze colored hair and the other resting lightly just below her collarbone. Her eyes were hidden beneath dark lashes but nothing could hide the smile that overtook her face. Towering over her from behind was a young man. In his hands he held a simple silver chain he was fastening around the girl's neck. His face was much harder to read. His grey eyes held an expression that very few would be able to read correctly. But his smile was soft and counted anyone's doubts that it was all an act. How wonderful the love of the opposites. The open book and the guarded marauder.

Perhaps if the picture had been magically it would have moved to show the young man shifting his hands to the girl's shoulders. Perhaps it would have even moved to show the young man place a kiss on the girl's sun-kissed skin. Or maybe even a touch of their lips. But the picture is all Muggle and only captures a single second of the lovers' lives. Perhaps the single most important second.

Sirius trailed his fingers slowly and lightly over the girl in the picture. Always he had to prove the picture was real and it was truly a memory and not a dream. And always he had to be careful not to have it crumble to dust in his hands. Without the picture what else is left?

Unknown to the reminiscing Sirius an older and more scared Remus Lupin leaned against the wall just outside the doorway. He could only begin to guess at what his best mate must be thinking. Even if he did have a guess it most likely wouldn't be anywhere close to what was going on in Sirius' head. It was how Sirius and the girl had always worked. Only the two alone had ever seemed to know exactly what the truth between them was. And no one ever dared to question it.

Lupin continued to watch Sirius study the picture before him. How hard it must be to look through the box over and over again on one's own. Then again it seemed to work awfully well at curing Sirius' heartbreak, at least for a little while anyway. What a night to be looking back, the anniversary of it all. How many has it been to the day? Lupin himself could not say for sure. Once the two started it all was so natural that is seemed to have happened in relation to the beginning of time.

The stairs creaked and Lupin looked over his shoulder. A sleepy eyed young man with untidy black hair and crooked glasses over green eyes shuffled along the floor. Before the boy could even make a sound Lupin placed a finger to his own lips and pointed to the boy's Godfather, who still gazed at the picture with unblinking eyes. The boy nodded and walked into the kitchen as Lupin disappeared back up the stairs. This was a story he preferred to remember the way he had seen it unfold.

"Sirius," Harry's voice cracked slightly with sleep, "what are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sirius replied, finally tarring his eyes away from the prized picture.

"What is that?" Harry nodded to the picture and then box.

As gently as he could Sirius placed the frame down so he could still gaze upon and Harry was able to see it. Standing Sirius dug through the box pulling out pictures, ignoring the letters all together, those were private, and spreading them out on the table. From the bottom of the box he pulled a diary or at least what was once a diary. Stained with so many different colored inks the only thing to even suggest the book he held was a diary were empty gold loops that once housed a lock.

"Take a seat Harry," Sirius said, flipping open the ink stained cover. "It's time you learned about you Godmother."

As a spark of curiosity and surprise lit the once sleepy young man's green eyes as the older man, who believed he was still young at heart, began.

_"I shall not waste my times with dates as they serve very little purpose unless one is fighting a war…"_


End file.
